


As The World Caves In

by postfrom1776



Series: The journey between Paris and London, a FrUk compilation [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse Scenario, Bittersweet, End of the World, Fluff, FrUK, Historical References, M/M, Sad, Song - Freeform, Song fic, as the world caves in by Matt Maltese, love declaration, you are warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:48:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24011566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postfrom1776/pseuds/postfrom1776
Summary: This is it, the end of the world. Arthur was sure he was going to spend it all by himself, until Francis come knocking at his door.One last time.A fic based on the wonderful song As The World Caves In by Matt Maltese!
Relationships: England/France (Hetalia)
Series: The journey between Paris and London, a FrUk compilation [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830940
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	As The World Caves In

“That it, it was today” Arthur though. After all of this time

All of the Nations received the new at the same time. America’s gouvernement, his boss, had done it. The final straw of the Cold War, 30 years after its ending. 

The tension between him and Russia climbed up to impossible scales, and the decision was made.

Nuclear war. 

And Russia, of course, answered equally. 

And all of the allies of both country, even England’s boss.

The bombs should start be fired soon. 

And subsequently, the end of the world, the so-called apocalypse, would begin.

There would not be any tomorrow, for anyone.

**My feet are aching**

After hundreds of years on this earth, everything he had known, himself included, was going to be ravaged by flames and radiation. History, petty discourses between nations, culture,all would be blown down to ashes.

His boss had sent him back home. Anyway, he was powerless in the situation. Even Alfred and Ivan were, despite their respective nations being the ones responsible for this whole thing in the first place.

As he dwelled into his house, pacing endlessly in the living room, he heard his doorbell ringing.

**And your back is pretty tired**

He rushed to open it, there was no time to waste, now, was it? On the doormat was standing in a fashionable blue coat the familiar, blond figure of Francis Bonnefoy, France, his oldest enemy, his first friend.

-“Bonjour, Angleterre” he said, his voice a hushed sound. “ May I come in?”

England stepped aside to let the Frenchman in before closing the door.

-“Bloody Hell, what brings you here, France?” England asked. He tried to keep up his normal tone, but he sounded horribly defeated, an attitude he would never let himself have in normal time, always trusting that victory could be somehow reached. But now was different. 

-“Well, you know, une visite de fin du monde.” France tried to use a cheery voice, but his facade was easily crumbling this time, replaced by a grey expression. 

He took his coat off, revealing one of his most beautiful outfits.

-“I thought it would be compelling for us, England, to end this as we started it...”

Francis paused, smiling, almost lost in his thought as Arthur didn’t know what to think

\- “...Ensemble.” He added.

Arthur raised an eyebrow interrogatively and Francis pulled a bottle of expensive French wine that he had been hiding behind his back, flashing him one of his classic grins. 

**And we've drunk a couple bottles, babe**

They sat in opposite chairs in Arthur’s living room, pulled out two cups and poured out the wine. They had done that many time in the past, and maybe they could pretend that it was only one of these occasions that was presenting itself again to them. 

Just like when they signed L’Entente Cordiale, when they found themselves finally fighting side by side for once. 

France and England drank in silence, not knowing what to say. Not even able to tease each other again.

  
  


**And set our grief aside**

-“Why?” Arthur decided to ask

Francis finished his glass before meeting his nemesis’s emerald eyes.

-“Closure, je crois, I wanted us to be able to get that, after all. We won't be here by tomorrow and we have known each other for so long…”

-“1091 years” Arthur added. Since his birth as a nation.

-“Oui, we went through so much, battles, wars, horrors…” the French nation stopped, once again hesitant.

-“Get to the point, smelly frog!” The Englishman snapped angrily.

-“That’s exactly my point! All of this, why do we do it! You are my first friend, my dearest enemy, yet we keep on insulting each other and fighting! I think I’m getting tired of it, I have been for some time already. I wanted it to stop for once.” 

Arthur had seen France in many states. Smug after a victory, flirtatious at world meetings, manic and anguished during the Revolution, half dead during the Great War and the Vichy regime, but never like that, screaming at him with that sort of desperation.

Francis sighed 

-“And that is our last chance to be truly honest with each other. For once in our lives”

The sentence stayed in the air for a moment. That was what Francis wanted. Answers about their relationship. The truth.

-“I never hated you, disliked by moments, but never hatred. I loved our fighting, our continuing disputes though. ” Arthur responded, a soft smile on his lips, one he only rarely showed, even more scarcely to the Frenchman.

-“I never hated you either, and I appreciated our fighting too, rosbif.” France added, this old insult feeling more like a pet name at this point than a hurtful word.

  
  


**The Papers say it's doomsday**

-“I never could have hated you, after all, you are my best friend, Francis” England found the strength to add, since this was his last chance, as the other nation so beautifully put it.

Francis let out a small chuckle before continuing.

-“All is fair in love and war… Have you ever been in love, Arthur?”

**The button has been pressed**

These words rang in England’s brain, whirling out of control, making the feelings he compressed at the bottom of his own consciousness bubbling up. He felt his face turn to the color of the vivid uniform he wore during the Independence war, but his body was utterly frozen.

-“Angleterre? Angleterre? Are you still with me?” France’s voice dragged him out of his transe.

-“Um, yes, I am still here.” He proceeded to take a sip of wine, clear his throat and dodge the question.

-“Were you? Ever in love I mean.” The Englishman continued

France looked him dead in the eye, obviously seeing what England was doing, but he decided to ignore it.

-“As a matter of fact, oui.” He perked up, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

-“Yeah, right, the Nation of Love, you’d do it to anyone with a pulse, I don’t even know why I bothered to ask.”

Francis blue eyes grew wide and he let out an offended gasp.

-“Is it really what you think of me, England? You can’t force love on people, and I’d never, never do that.” He scoffed, despite saying that he wanted their fighting to stop mere minutes ago.

-“I admit my bed was warmed by many different people many time across the centuries, that I enjoy to flirt around and all of that, but if you want to know, real Love struck me only a few time!” 

Arthur’s curiosity was peaked, he wanted to know more, but at the same time, he feared part of the answers. 

-“I fell in love during my life, more when I was younger, still innocent that their lives were going to fly by way quicker than mine,” 

Arthur understood that feeling, he too had wept many monarchs, people that passed into his life far too quickly.

-“You do remember Jeanne, non?”

**We're gonna nuke each other up boys**

How could he ever forget about the Maid of Orléans, France’s savior during the Hundred Years war, a courageous and worthy young women unjustly burned at the stakes by his people. It took ages for France to forgive him after that.

-“You loved her?” England was half-surprised by the answer France gave him.

-“I did, yes, in the same way you loved your Queen Elizabeth 1” 

Arthur did loved her, she had been married to England after all, and subsequently, to him. But that also implied an other thing. Elizabeth was known worldwide for being Gloriana, the virgin Queen, and as far as Arthur knew, she was. Same went for Joan of Arc…

-“But Joan wasn’t the only one you ever truly loved, right?” His tone was insistent, if France had been such a flirt, he had to have had more than one love, isn’t it?

-“Oui, of course, Antonia always held a special place in my heart, even if hers was more devoted to her dearest Gabrielle de Polignac.” 

Ahh, Marie-Antoinette, of course, the ultimate spark of controversy in France. Francis had taken quite a liking to her, and had been heartbroken when she was beheaded. 

He was already so divided and broken during the whole Revolution, his people fighting against one another, unconsciously ravaging Francis Bonnefoy.

-“But as much as I loved her, I never acted on it, never moved toward something more than une amie.”

-“Really?” England was surprised by that statement. 

-“Oui, I seem to have a tendency to do that, try to make friends with those I love in fear of destroying the figment of a relationship I have with them. But you never noticed that, didn’t you, Arthur?”

The other nation froze, but merely for a second.

-“Do you mean-, you-, you implied that, you-, me-...”

France loved him, each time he flirted with him, it was true, France was in love with him.

Despite all that separated them, all their odds, all of their fighting. That’s why Francis wanted it to end today.

This is where he wanted to go with this visit, the reason why he came to spend the end of the world in the dreary city of London instead of Paris. 

That’s why he dressed up at the nine. To succeed into making his love confession on their last day on Earth.

-“Oui, je t’aime” France answered, placing his classic smile on his face before rising up to take his coat and walk toward the door. 

England wasn’t going to reciprocate his feelings. He never had, for centuries, and certainly wasn’t going to today. Tears started to well in his indigo eyes, droplets of water against the stark ocean coloured irises.

England cursed to both the Protestant and Catholic God, this matter still not resolved in his country.

Dammit, it was his last chance. He wasn’t going to let it slide

**'Til old satan stands impressed**

He lurched forward, jumping from his seat and grabbed the other nation’s wrist, forcing him to look toward him again.

-“Francis wait!’ His voice had turned into a desperate cry, he couldn’t let him go again, he couldn’t lose him now, no, not when they were going to be no more by morning.

The Frenchman turned back to him, openly crying blue eyes meeting England’s shiny emerald ones.

-“I love you too,” the four simple words spilled from Arthur’s lips, finally into the out after centuries of getting buried and hidden.

France’s face shifted from sad to angry, which took England aback.

-“Angleterre, you don’t have to lie to me out of pity.” Francis managed to snap back at him. 

-“No, no it’s not pity!” Arthur yelled back “ It’s the truth, the truth I’ve been hiding since, oh god, since bloody forever! I love you, you and your stupid frog accent, your fancy food, your champagne, your flirty manners, your ways of infuriating me. God, I love you Francis, you wanker, I really do.”

Mere seconds after his speech ended, Francis quite literally launched himself into Arthur arms, crying some more.

**And here it is, our final night alive**

-“I, I never thought this day would come,” the Frenchman miraculously articulated between happy sobs. “The day you’d say you love me back”

They pulled apart from the hug, staring in each other’s eyes and they realized how close they were to one another. Arthur’s face promptly flushed once again, turning a deep shade of red that would rivalise with the coat he wore back in his pirate days.

He held his hand up, wiping the last few tears on Francis cheek, and as he held his dearest rival, no, love’s face, the French Republic pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss. A French kiss, to be precise.

This wasn’t their first kiss, of course, but no other they ever had in the past could rivalise with that one. 

Yet.

-“Je t’aime tellement.” Francis spoke softly between two kisses.

-“I adore you too, my dearest.” Arthur responded, meaning every words to his core.

And they kissed each other again, second slowly falling into minutes, but they didn’t care, they had each other, finally, standing in England’s living room.

**And as the earth runs to the ground**

When they finally split apart, breathless, Arthur spoke.

-“What now?” He voiced up. “What do you want to do”

Without a second thought, Francis answered.

-“You. If you want too, of course…” 

-“How about we take it to my bedroom, um?” Arthur added playfully.

**Oh girl it's you that I lie with**

**As the atom bomb locks in**

**Oh it's you I watch TV with**

**As the world, as the world caves in**

They were now both naked in England’s bed, side by side, staring lovingly in each other’s eyes.

France broke the silence.

-“Merci for everything, mon lapin.”

-“You’re welcome, love.. wait, rabbit? I’m not your _rabbit_?” 

Francis let out an obnoxious laughter.

-“Of course you are! Mon beau lapin anglais, non?”

-“If you say so, then, pudding!” Arthur retorted.

-“No! Not your horrible English food!” France faked whined.

-“Drama Queen..” Arthur added before pressing a kiss to Francis lips to shut him up.

When he pulled away, Francis’ eyes were shining,

-“I just had an idea!” His clear voice cheered up. “Let’s get married!”

-“What?” England exclaimed “ It's the end of the world! We could never have enough time to plan it, to find someone to officiate or to make a ceremony ! Are you crazy?”

-“Peut-être… and we do not need any of that. Let's get dressed in our most beautiful clothes and exchange vows! I even already got a ring for you, and you can find one for me in your old pirate day treasures!”

He had blurted all of this in such an excited voice that England had to pay very close attention to understand everything with his strong accent

-“Well, you know, it’s not a bad idea actually… wait you have a ring for me already!?”

**You put your final suit on**

Francis jumped out of bed and grabbed all of the piece of his outfit before heading toward the door.

-“Get dressed in your finest clothing, chéri, I’m going to propose to you!” The French Nation said brightly before closing the door behind him and getting dressed in the bathroom. He tried his best to smooth out the creases in his vest, but to no avail and ended up giving up. 

Once he was fully clothed, he headed downstairs, in the entrance, to search his own coat pocket for the familiar little box he had been carrying for a few decades already. 1956 to be exact, since his failed proposal during the Suez crisis. 

The velvet box had lost its softness due to being carried around all the time and a smooth circular patch had been made by France’s thumb.

He used it to stim when he was nervous, and now, seeing as he was going to propose to the love of his life, he couldn’t help but to repeat the familiar gesture on the little box. 

He opened it, making sure the light gold ring was still in place and polished. It was a plain band, without any outer embellishments, since he had purchased it during a crisis after all, but there was a small engraving in the inner side.

_Entente Cordiale_

**I paint my fingernails**

France was now standing outside of England’s bedroom, right behind the door. He felt the jittery butterflies in his stomach before knocking twice.

-“Arthur, I hope you are ready and not wearing one of those horrendous jumpers, cause I’m coming inside!”

On the other side of the door, England was fully suited in his most beautiful suit. He may not have any talent for cooking, but Charles Worth, creator of la Haute Couture, was a British man after all.

He had straightened his tie at least 4 times when Francis knocked on the door and startled him. Which almost made him drop the silver ring he had chosen for him. 

It was simple and shiny, but elegant and when he noticed the iris pattern on it, he couldn’t help but to select this one for France. The purple iris was the flower that inspired the Fleur de Lys, his national flower. 

-“Yes, yes I am, come in!” He answered and France stepped in, radiant in his suit. 

The Frenchman always jokingly said he would do a radiant bride, but now Arthur got to see it with his own eyes. He was stunned, riveted to the floor in his expensive black leather shoes.

**Oh we're going out in style babe**

Francis walked closer to him, like to cross the distance of the Chanel and Arthur unfroze instantaneously. It was his big day, after all, his lover was going to propose, then he’ll marry his newly made fiancé. 

Emerald eyes locked with sky blue and France pulled the old ring box out of his pocket as England held up the single silver ring in his right hand.

Francis cleared his throat before starting.

-“Angleterre, Arthur, mon amour, we’ve been through so much and I wanted to ask you this for so long, and not because my boss will kill me this time. Veux-tu m’épouser, um I mean, will you marry me?” He asked with all his serious and light in his eyes rivalling the Eiffel Tower at night. He then opened the old box revealing the golden ring.

-“Yes, yes I do.” England breathed, a soft smile on his face and his heart making somersaults in his chest. France took it out of the box and showed Arthur the little engraving.

_Entente Cordiale_

“You sentimental sod” Arthur replied to it, trying not to cry while being touched to his very core by this little attention, this little nod to their history. 

Francis slipped the ring on Arthur’s finger and the latter took his turn.

-“Francis, France, my bloody beautiful frog..”

-“Arthur, please!” The French Nation tried to scold him, but he was obviously hiding a laughter behind his fake shocked expression.

-“... You have been a constant in my life since forever, and for the little forever we have left, I’d like you to be my husband. Will you marry me?”

As Arthur said these words, Francis couldn’t stop to smile, every syllable bringing him joy.

-“Oui, oui i will!” The second ring was placed on Francis finger and Arthur didn’t let go of his lovers, well now, husband’s hand. Instead, he held it closer and they both drew in to kiss each other.

**And everything's on sale**

-“I love you, my husband.” Arthur murmured 

-“Je t’aime aussi, mon chéri, I told you it was a good idea.”

England let out a little laugh. 

-“Yes it was, even though I would have loved our marriage to last longer.”

-“Well, we didn’t say till death do us part, so let us hope it won’t.” France had always been a strong believer, and his faith still held strong as of today, even when all hope into a God was lost for many.

-“Oh Francis, if hundreds of years of war, trenches and pain couldn’t do us part, I don’t think death ever could!”

-“You’re right” the République added, but beginning of tear had already started to appear on the corner of his eyes.

Arthur held up his hand to wipe them away and leaned in again to kiss his lover.

**We creep up on extinction**

-“How about we head downstairs and have our first dance?” England proposed. “I probably have a vinyl of a waltz or something else we could use.”

France smiled back at him, his baby blue eyes dry again. 

-“Oui, let’s do that. And I can show you some moves I used to seduce the ladies…” he added in a sing-song voice while winking.

They walked down the steep stairs and back into Arthur’s living room. Their cup of wine were still standing on the table beside the couch, untouched since they left the room.

France went toward the stocked pile of vinyls, kneeling in front of it and searching for the right one while England undusted the gramophone. 

He hadn’t used it for a while, even though he owned a huge collection of records. Almost all of the top rock bands were from the UK after all.

-“Oh look at that!” Francis broke the silence “Sheer Heart Attack, by Queen! It remind me you’re punk phase, you looked so handsome in those tight rock outfits!”

-“You were staring at my arse back then?! Bloody frog!” Both men started to laugh loudly after that last comment.

-“There, I think I found it, the record we’ll use!” France was now holding the square case, a wide smile spread across his features. 

-“What did you chose, love?”

-“Un classic, Waltz of the Flowers, from the Nutcracker.”

England smiled at the idea. It would be perfect for their first dance.

-“It’s funny, I thought you’d take something from Chopin, or an other French composer.”

-“Well, the Chopin you own doesn’t have any waltz and beside, there’s nothing wrong about some échange culturel, isn't it, Angleterre?” He said in his usual flirty voice.

-“Come on, let’s put it in and begin.”

**I pull your arms right in**

Francis passed him the record and Arthur lowered the needle. Music filled the room, the orchestra bringing the notes to life.

Arthur offered the Frenchman his hand, and the latter took it in his own gleefully. 

Francis was an excellent dancer, and they were both aware of that, but he let Arthur lead their dance nonetheless because he knew the Englishman wanted to uphold his gentleman style, so he placed his other hand on England’s shoulder.

France stared lovingly Arthur’s moss green eyes, and the Englishman kiss him chastely before starting the dance, looking in Francis’ blue irises with burning affection.

They took their first few step with uncertainty, not having danced with each other before, but the moves went right in and they spun around the living room as if it was a regency ball.

After all, spinning around one another, being so close and stepping occasionally on the other’s shoe was something they had done for centuries, even without noticing it.

France broke the silence of their, quite romantic, dance.

-“It remind me of the time a young aristocrat tripped and fell in front of the queen, except that you won’t fall, won’t you mon amour?”

-“Of course not, how could I ever, let you down?” England replied 

He let out a giggle at his own pun and spun France around some more before planting another kiss to his lips.

-“I love you, remember?

-“Bien sûr que je me souviens, my dearest. I won’t ever forget.”

They kept on dancing some more, feet sweeping on the floor, heels swinging on the carpet, bodies pressed more closely than before to each other.

  
  


**I weep and say goodnight love**

The song finished and faded out, but they kept on holding each other close, half afraid that if they let go, they’d fade too.

They were going to fade soon, dissolve in a bright blast, flashing like the Eiffel Tower at night and the fireworks on the 4th of July.

-“Are you afraid?” Francis asked, his voice a soft murmur in Arthur’s ear.

The response took a few second to come as he thought of the answer.

-“Of death? I don’t know. I never seriously thought about it before. It saddens me more than it frightens me, I believe.”

France nodded, showing his understanding and England continued.

-“It’s such a foreign concept to us, isn’t it?”

-“Oui, but we have seen it up close before, we even almost experienced it many times, in battle, in sickness…”

-“In the trenches when they threw the gas in.” Arthur helped him to conclude.

They had been together when it happened and it was the first time the pain made Arthur wish he was actually going to die. As Nation, they only endured the pain and recovered.

Francis held him harder at the memory. He still had mental and physical scars from the world wars, while England healed a lot more quickly, despite the horrors he also went through and the Blitz.

-“I wish I could have seen Matthieu and Alfred one last time, but I think it’s too late.”

-“I had hope for this too, but I am afraid you are right. I wanted to make up with America and to tell Canada I didn’t forget about him.”

-“Let us pray that they aren’t alone tonight.”

**While my organs pack it in**

Arthur suddenly pulled away from the hug, looking at his husband right in the eye.

-“Will we feel it?” He had said that he wasn’t afraid mere minutes ago, but his voice trembled slightly as he uttered these words.

Francis took his shaky hand in his and made his voice as reassuring and steady as he could.

-“Kiku was bedridden for weeks in the aftermaths of it. But his country survived. Tonight our country won’t, mon amour. Well go up in flame, just like Jeanne and it will be done”

Arthur wasn’t exactly convinced, but he trusted him.

**And here it is, our final night alive**

Arthur got his composure back again and had an idea.

-“How about we go for a walk? We could take a stroll along the Thames, it could be romantic, for our last moments?”

-“That’s a delightful idea, mon chéri. I was starting to feel stuffy from staying in your living room!”

They walked hand in hand to the door and on the sidewalk, toward the riverbank.

**And as the earth runs to the ground**

The wind was blowing across London, but the rain wasn’t here to make the weather unbearable. 

The city’s light were all open, despite the night being well advanced and their reflection danced on the water's surface.

No one could be sleeping tonight.

**Oh girl it's you that I lie with**

Arthur and Francis stopped walking in the middle of a bridge, still holding each other’s hand. 

The Frenchman turned his gaze from the horizon to his England, his sarcastic British man, l’amour de sa vie.

He took Arthur’s face in his hands to pull him into a kiss, a goodbye kiss, a farewell kiss.

A classic true love kiss

**As the atom bomb locks in**

Arthur’s hand placed themselves on Francis cheeks as well, deepening the kiss, showing him how much he loved him, how much nothing else mattered but him tonight. 

**Oh it's you I watch TV with**

Miles away, the switch flipped, and it began. 

Alfred F. Jones, sitting in his brother Matthew’s kitchen wept while watching the news. Canada went to him and hugged America. Kumajiro joined as well. They were together in that at least. 

**As the world, as the world caves**

Ivan and his sibling stargazed before the sky burned out. The Baltics and the Nordics were hanging out together as well, one last time.

**Oh it's you that I lie with**

Ludwig Beilschmidt and Feliciano Vargas were holding each other too. There was no way of surrendering this time.

**As the atom bomb locks in**

The deep blue sky turned to fiery red and orange, bringing down oblivion in its wrath.

**Yes it's you I welcome death with**

Arthur and Francis kept on kissing each other, whispering how much they loved each other as the atom bomb hit its mark in London.

The Eternals enemies, the almost friends, the lovers, England and France, gone.

**As the world, as the world caves in**

Humanity was a forgotten memory when the morning came.

**As the world caves in**

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you loved it and that you didn’t cry as much as I did writting it! Here are links to the two songs:
> 
> As The World Caves In:https://g.co/kgs/he2trX
> 
> The Waltz of The Flowers:https://g.co/kgs/rNMBgp
> 
> Big thanks to my pal for helping me revise it! English is not my first language so if you spot mistake please don’t hesitate to tell me! These 10 night staying up from 11pm to 1 am made this and it was worth it!


End file.
